


047 - Postponed Gratification

by storiesaboutvan



Category: Catfish and the Bottlemen (Band)
Genre: F/M, Reader-Insert, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-12 05:15:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17461310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesaboutvan/pseuds/storiesaboutvan
Summary: Filling the prompt “I need more of sexually frustrated van”





	047 - Postponed Gratification

Van is waiting impatiently in the kitchen. He calls your name again, and you ignore him. You haven't been out in so long; you want to look perfect. You hear a chair loudly slide along the floor. He's being dramatic. You look at yourself in the bathroom mirror. You had the foresight to wash your hair yesterday, and today it still looked clean but had enough grit to style. Your makeup worked out. It was even, and you opted for a light look. You didn't want to be melting by only the second song. You are wearing your absolute favourite dress and Van had convinced you to stick to flat shoes rather than heels. Your reflection smiles back at you, and you are ready to go.

In the kitchen Van has the chair pushed far out from the table, but is leaning forward with his head resting on his arms on it. He looks up when you walk in. He smiles wide and it's the exact reaction you wanted.

"Fuuuuuuuuuuuck me," he says.

"Yeah? Look alright?"

"Babe. Come 'ere. Alright? You are exquisite,"

"Exquisite? Been in the dictionary again?" you mock. You still give him shit about simpatico. He leans out and does little kid grabby hands at you. You walk to him and he quickly pulls you closer. You stand between his legs, and he has his hands on yours.

"Better than just saying you're fit, yeah? Or foxy,"

"Gross. Don't ever call me that,"

"Foxy? But-"

"I swear to fucking God, Van, if you ever quote Austin Powers and think it's going to make me feel good… Just… Please no," you say, very seriously. He laughs and nods.

"Alright. Got it. But dead set, Y/N. You're killing me." His tone changes and his hands move up your legs, under the skirt of your dress. You put your hands on his shoulders.

"Thought you said we should get going," you say as you take a step back out of his reach. He goes to argue - you can see it in his face. His pupils have expanded and he can't stop grinning. "Come," you order and walk out the room, picking your phone up on the way out. He grabs his wallet and keys and follows you to the car.

…

'Out' is a house party being thrown by Bondy. He's sitting on a life size inflatable throne in his front yard when you arrive. He greets you and Van and points you in the direction of drinks. As you walk away he adds, "Y/N. Looking real good tonight." You throw back a grin and you feel Van's hand get just a little tighter around yours.

You stand behind Van with your arms wrapped his waist. He is making you a Pimms cocktail with fruit and everything. Bondy has made sure the kitchen is fully stocked. You appreciate the commitment. You rest your cheek on Van's back and close your eyes for a moment. He's warm and his shirt smells like fabric softener. When he finishes he hands the glass to you and the look of pride on his face kills you. You take a sip through the purple straw. He's done well.

Van knows almost everyone at the party, or at least, almost everyone wants to come over and talk to him. You're not surprised. He's interesting, beautiful, and a little famous now. To you, he's the same person you met when you were sixteen and doing work experience at a record store. He had stupid hair and dressed badly and you fell in love straight away. Standing by his side now, you felt the exact same. Except, his hair was a little better and he dressed well. Tonight, for example, he was wearing fitted black jeans, held up by a belt. A crisp white shirt was tucked into the jeans and his sleeves were neatly rolled up to his elbows. The top two buttons were undone, and the shirt framed his prized necklace. The jeans disappeared into black boots. Of course people wanted to talk to him. Poster boy for monochrome indie cool.

An hour passes and you wander away from Van and find some friends dancing in the lounge room. You join them, and as you drink more and dance more, you can feel everything becoming… more. You're more happy. More comfortable. More willing to dance. More in love. When Van reappears in front of you, it's too much. He makes you drink some water with him; you share a glass. Then he hands you another Pimms. You hook one arm around his neck and look at the cocktail carefully.

"So much fruit!" you say happily. He nods. He's almost as drunk as you. You bite at the side of glass, trying to catch one of the strawberry halves in your mouth. Van laughs at you. "Help?" You could unhook yourself from him, but you don't want to. One of his arms is around your waist, and you're glad when he leaves it there. He puts his drink down. You watch him carefully as he reaches into your glass and fishes out the strawberry. You open your mouth and he puts it on your tongue. You chew, swallow, and open your mouth again. He smiles and fishes out more fruit. As he puts it on your tongue you close your mouth around his index and middle finger. You hear Van's breath hitch. He takes his arm from around you and uses that hand to take your glass away. He puts it down and returns his arm to your hips, and he stands close. He's waiting to see what you'll do.

You slowly let the pressure fade, and he can let his hand drop from your mouth. You swallow the strawberry. You both stay still, watching the other closely. You close the space between your bodies and he simultaneously leans down to kiss you. His tongue feels good in your mouth, and his hands are gripping your hips tight. He angles one of his legs up, and you press into it. The friction feels good and goosebumps break out along your arms and legs. You thread your fingers through his hair, and let your other hand rest flat on his chest.

You are considering never letting your lips leave his, until the distinctive sound of The Love Cats starts playing. As your eyes go wide and you hear your friend squeal and grab you from behind, Van knows he's lost you for the moment. He takes a step back and lets you dance and meow and use your hands as kitty ears.

…

Later you find Van sitting on a couch with people you don't recognise. You can tell he doesn't know them, because he is listening to them too carefully, too politely. You stand in the doorway and finish the last of your drink. You leave the glass on the bookshelf next to you. Van's eyes are scanning the room, looking for an out, when he spots you. You wave. He doesn't want to be rude, but he's also drunk and your dress is riding up more and more. He flicks his head, motioning for you to go to him. You shrug. You look at each other and you can't not go to him. There's a magnetic pull that will always win out.

"Hi. Sorry guys. Could I just borrow this one for a sec?" you say sweetly to the group of people. They nod, but look disappointed that you're taking Van's hand and leading him away.

"Where have you been, Y/N? I needed you!"

"For what?" you ask. He stops walking and your connected hands mean you stop suddenly and are yanked back into him. You're in a hallway and he pushes you against the wall. People continue to walk past, but they follow the social norm of not stopping to watch.

"Touching," he answers. His left hand takes your right hand. Your fingers entwine. His right hand draws circles on your thigh. They swirl higher and higher until he's almost at your underwear.

"You can't touch me here," you whisper, pretending to be shocked by the scandalous movement.

"You saying we should go somewhere else?" Van's trying to be cool, calm, collected. But, there is urgency in his voice that only you can recognise, and there is a tightness in his jeans that only you can fix. It's power, and you're going to take it for all it's worth.

"No," you reply sharply, pushing him off you entirely. He looks like you just turned off his life support. "I'm going to go find Tiff or Alice. Have you seen them?" You start to walk down the hallway backwards. He's dying and you're making it worse. He's grinning, but it's painful. You disappear into a crowded room before Van can grab you back.

…

You're standing in the very narrow passage between the house and the side fence with a girl you just met. She had a joint and you had a slice of cake, so it seemed like fate. You are taking turns at smoking and eating. You can't see the front garden - there is a fence and a locked gate. You can see in the backyard, though. People are having fun, and because you're standing in the dark, they can't see you. They act without inhibition. When you finish the cake and the joint you both lean against the wall and look up.

"Why's there no stars?" the girl asks.

"Clouds maybe?"

"Fucking clouds, mate," she replies and you don't know exactly what she means. She pushes off from the wall. "I'll catch you later. If you find more cake, find me." You nod and she walks out in the yard. You consider moving also, but your body feels heavier because of the weed and you want a minute to let the cake settle. You should definitely find more cake though, you think. You close your eyes.

"Babe?"

"Vaaaaaaaaaan?" you reply without looking. You know his voice. You still don't bother checking when someone stands in front of you. You can smell him. Sense him.

"What are you doing here?"

"I was with a girl," you offer, like it clarifies everything.

"What were you doing?"

"None of your business," you say as you open your eyes. You want to see his annoyance. He smiles though.

"You are my business. Were you maybe down here getting a little baked with said girl?"

You smile and nod. He laughs and leans in and kisses you and you kiss back but it's lazy. You're both drunk, but you're also high. You're moving a few beats behind him. He brushes through your hair with his fingers, then begins to kiss your neck. You let your head roll to the side. He pushes a leg between yours, and you start grinding. It's almost your favourite thing to do. You can feel him smile. He kisses a line across your collarbone, then along one of arms, all the way to the tips of your fingers. You giggle when he looks at you as he kisses each of your special little finger prints. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other and lets your hand fall back by your side 

"How you feeling, babe?" he asks. You nod happily.

"How are you feeling?"

You know how he's feeling. You can feel it pressed into your thigh.

"I'm alright. Thank you for asking,"

"I just want to stand here for a little longer, but you can keep kissing me if you want," you tell him. He raises his eyebrows at you.

"Can I?"

You nod. And, he does, of course. You're sure there will be bruises tomorrow. You look to the side briefly, and muse that you can see people but people can't see you. You're so focused on watching everyone - you can see Bondy standing on a chair near the back fence, he's doing something weird and a small group of people have given him an audience - that you don't notice that Van's dropped to his knees. He swings your hips gently to get your attention.

"Hi!" you beam down at him. He smiles, and the short puff of air from his nose indicates amusement.

"Hey, babe."

He puts a hand on each thigh over the material of your dress, but with his thumbs hooked under. As he slowly pushes the hem of your dress up, he leaves a trail of kisses. Slowly, slowly, his hands and his kisses go higher. He is at your underwear, and he kisses you over them. You giggle and squirm and close your eyes. His fingers crawl over the top of your underwear and are seconds away from inching them down.

"Hey guys, just wondering-" from a voice close by. You yelp at the same time as Van stands. Your dress falls back down. The girl from before. "Yeah, just wondering if you remember exact where you got that cake from?"

You laugh and walk towards her. She is higher than before. You take her hand and walk out into the backyard.

"Babe?" Van calls. You look over your shoulder at him. If you thought he was dying before, the look on the poor boy's face now…

…

It's late in the night, or maybe early in the morning. You want chips and a Coke Zero. You find Van sitting on the kitchen bench with Larry. You stand in front of Van and he rests his arms on your shoulders.

"Can we go soon?" you ask.

"Yeah. Larry's going to drop us home." Van replies. You look at Larry and he gives you the thumbs up. Bless his little cotton socks.

As you walk to Larry's car you call shotgun, then ask if maybe a drive-thru could be a thing. It can be. Van sits in the back middle seat. You twist in your chair and look at him. He shakes his head at you, like you've done something wrong but are too cute to really yell at. Like a child who's spilt paint making you art, or a puppy who didn't know any better than to rip up all the newspapers. You reach out to him, fry in hand. You feed it to him and giggle.

"Another?" you ask and he nods. You keep feeding him until Larry tells you to stop.

"You guys are gross," he adds.

He drops you off and waits until your front door closes before he leaves. Bless.

"Bed time!" you call and kick off your shoes. Van empties his pockets onto the kitchen table as you walk through. As you walk down the hall you can hear him undressing. The chink of his belt buckle. The swish of his shirt. Then, you feel him jump a step to reach you. He unzips the back of your dress and you let it fall to the ground. You almost trip over it. Van steadies you as he laughs. You're at the bed now, and you crawl in. You unhook your bra and throw it across the room dramatically. The bed is cool and soft. It's so Goddamn comfy.

Van pulls his boots and jeans off and gets into bed. He brings you close and you let him move your limbs to where he wants them. You kiss. You can almost taste his want. Your fingers draw hearts across his chest and down. You can certainly feel his want. You laugh out loud.

"How long have you been this hard?"

"Fucking… Since, like, you walked into the kitchen before we fucking left. It hurts, babe,"

"Awwwww, poor Van. Always suffering, huh?"

You kiss him and keep his bottom lip between your teeth. You are both on your sides facing each other, and your leg is hooked over his. Your hand is on his hip and he bucks it up towards you. It's begging in motion. You run your fingers along the elastic of his boxer briefs. He pushes his lips back to yours and you stop biting and start kissing.

"Please, Y/N, please."

As you take him in your hands and he smiles, you have a moment where you think you shouldn't make him wait all night so much. Then you remember how beautiful he is when he's frustrated, and how much better he tastes when gratification has been postponed. You tell him he's allowed to cum, and it doesn't take long.


End file.
